


Changing of the Guard

by skund



Category: DCU - Batman and Robin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon's reaction to the reappearance of Batman aren't what he thought they would be. Written for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/cliche_bingo/"><strong>cliche_bingo</strong></a>   prompt 'Physical imperfections'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing of the Guard

Dark wings against the night sky. Gordon’s heart jumped at the sight – he never thought he’d see it again. It’d been so long since he’d glimpsed that unmistakable figure. During the long absence he’d kept coming up here to light the signal - an act of faith in Gotham’s mysterious protector. But to Gordon the belief that Batman still lived was about more than knowing the masked vigilante patrolled the streets. It was the small, quiet hope that this hellhole of a city didn’t devour everything she touched. That some men, good men, could work hard and make a difference and not end up broken, crazy or dead. Or all three. Gordon was absurdly pleased to see that pointed silhouette again against the low clouds, but he’d rather die than let that slip. He stood casually, hands in pockets, as the men with him craned their necks in awe.

Gordon watched them descend out of the light, landing with feather touches against the rooftop. He froze, but didn’t let his surprise reach his face. The kid Robin was back with him, but he was tiny. Couldn’t be more than ten, twelve. That was new. Then Gordon’s attention shifted as Batman landed beside the boy, cape billowing perfectly behind him. Show-off. He straightened and nodded at Gordon, who just studied him in return. Batman was short. Well, not short but shorter than _him_. Gordon’s mind kicked into overdrive and fingers itched as he studied the pair; times like this made him wish he still smoked. Give him something to do while the assimilated the situation, delay those first crucial words. Many an interrogation had hinged on a few drags of a cigarette.

He studied the vigilantes. The kid was definitely new. Similar hair as the previous boy, but that smug little smirk was new. He stood with his arms crossed and his nose in the air like he was the king of the world. Hell, Gordon mused, a boy his age swinging across rooftops in the shadow of a legend, he probably thought he was. And Batman... that was the costume all right but something wasn’t the same. It wasn’t just the height, Batman looked smaller, lither. Less armour? Or just different muscle? He scrutinised what he could see of Batman’s face. There was something familiar there, but he just couldn’t place it. Like bumping into a school friend three kids and a divorce later. This clearly wasn’t his Batman.

And then the surprise wore off and it hit him. What a fool old man he was. Of course his Batman was dead. No one survived this city in the end; even if you left you found yourself stumping back somehow, someway. Batman was gone. It felt odd to mourn someone he could hardly call a friend. He hoped there was someone out there to mourn him properly, bury him well and give him rest. He hoped there was someone to do the same to him when the time came.

“You called, Commissioner Gordon.” Batman broke the silence first and the voice was a good Batman rasp, but not quite right.

“... It’s been a long time. A whole lot of rumors.” Gordon replied. Meaningless words really, but a probe for information.

“We’ve been... Upgrading our operation. I’m sure you understand. So, Mr. Toad still won’t talk.”

Gordon resisted the urge to smile. Here he was forgetting himself – new Batman but obviously the same old M.O. He never could get a decent explanation out of the cagey bastard. And, of course, straight down to business.

He studied this Bat again. Could he seriously be a successor, rather than a fancy dressing impostor? He had all the toys, the method and the information. He almost had the voice. And there was something familiar in the way he stood - with a determination in the set of his jaw, stock still and yet radiating potential energy. Gordon wasn’t wholly convinced. But he was prepared to try.

Before he could reply Simmons was butting in with news of trouble below at the Desk and the caped crusaders are away, flying down the stairs. Gordon and the patrolmen followed into a world of punches and yelling. Capes swirling through the smoke, fluid and sleek, as the vigilantes tumbled through the air. It was chaos. And through it all Gordon was fighting back a quiet joy. It was good to be back in business.


End file.
